


Do No Harm

by TemperamentalTerpsichorean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Allegiance to queens instead of wizards, Ambitious Malfoys, Bad Role Models all around, Catherine vs. Anne rivalry, Changing Allegiances, Character Death, Divorced Beheaded Died Divorced Beheaded Survived, English Reformation, F/M, Henry VIII must have a son, Hermione has changing ambitions, Howard Ambition, Morally-Ambiguous Malfoys, Renaissance-Era Sensibilities, Renaissance/Tudor AU, Slow Burn, the au nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemperamentalTerpsichorean/pseuds/TemperamentalTerpsichorean
Summary: He glanced up at me, his eyes silvered mirrors reflecting my own indecisiveness and fear. We did not know where the king was going to jump next, and as I watched his white-gold hair catch the winter breeze off the river I came to a decision.Whatever happened, no matter what the Lupins and Weasleys and my own mother and father said, I would marry the Duke of Berkshire’s son. I would marry Draco and I would rise higher than them all. No one would be able to stop me. We only needed to face the King.---Renaissance/Tudor AU. Dramione. Updates Saturdays.





	1. An Unkindness of Ravens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting around to a fic I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. The Tudor period (and the larger Renaissance period) is one that I have a particular scholarly interest in, and I will be attempting to do my best to bring it justice here. This is a fictionalized account obviously, but I’ll try my best to make it believable! This fic will be different from my other Dramione in that instead of being written in third person limited, we’re going first person. I’ve worked on this while also writing Strings, and I’m hoping everyone likes what I have to offer. Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter discusses childbirth and complications thereof. Reader discretion is advised.

_**** _

_**Summer 1521: London**_  

  I was twelve when I first became entangled with the Court and the Malfoy family.

 My father is Richard Granger, a physician. Being a professional man made him a gentleman and therefore allowed to give me the best education he could afford for someone of our status. My mother Amy was the daughter of a country squire and was sure to teach me etiquette and dancing, and all the fine things that a lady of some rank should know. By the time I was eleven, I could write and speak Latin, French, and Spanish fluently in addition to my native English. I could dance, sing, and sew well enough to not embarrass myself. I had rigorous knowledge of mathematics, philosophy, and the Bible. In short, I was the same as any well-educated young lady with one exception: I also was trained in healing.

 Being my father’s only child meant there was no one to carry on his knowledge. I could never enter the College of Physicians like my father, but my father still taught me his knowledge of healing. Father would have me collect herbs, mix his remedies, and occasionally help set families at ease when he would attend to the sick. When my mother would be called out to attend a birth plying her trade as a midwife, she’d occasionally take me with her, teaching me her skills and giving me a possibility for the future. Father probably hoped I would go to the home of one of our rich relatives and find a respectable husband, or perhaps follow my mother in her footsteps.

 That, unfortunately, was not to be.

* * *

 Ten ravens were cawing and lingering by the baker across the street. I was in the physic garden in the back of the house, a small place but growing the valuable herbs Father and Mother needed for their work. I was pinching sage tips and collecting them in a basket, encouraging the plant to grow bushy and full. The heat was incredible, the May sun pounding down on my coif and causing me to sweat. Only the occasional breeze ruffling the edges of my linen shift eased the heat of my practical wool gown. My mother was directing our cook in making lunch, and Father was in his study researching ingredients for a poultice from a Spanish monograph on Moorish medicines.

 Hooves clopped down the cobblestones of our London street, as they occasionally did. Being in the corner of our garden nearest to the street meant I could gaze over the short fence, and I was puzzled when I heard a great clatter and a gorgeous hunter raced past me and skidded to a halt in front of our house. Our old nag shied from the sound in the paddock.

 “Hark,” I shouted. “Who calls?”

 A man leapt down in midnight blue and white livery, and swept a bow. “I call upon the Mistress Amy Granger. She’s needed at the palace!”

 Mother appeared at the door, wiping her hands dry. “I am she. Which lady needs me?”

 He bowed to her politely. “Mrs. Granger, it’s Lady Lupin. She sent away the court midwives, said she’d only have you.”

 Mother became all business. “Hermione, gather my things and our cloaks. You’re coming with me. This will be a hard birth, I’ll need you.” She removed her house apron and went back inside.

 I dropped my basket and ran, my task forgotten; when I entered the kitchen through the back door I threw off the dirt-stained apron I wore and filched a clean linen apron from the basket of washing. Mother soon bustled in and tied on her own as I gathered belladonna grains, strong sweet wine, dried red raspberry leaves, catnip and cramp bark, chamomile, and olive oil as well as linens and poultices in a large wicker basket with a lid. I slipped on my hood, a serviceable English style, and washed my hands as Mother came back with our riding cloaks and fastened hers on. I took mine from her hands, and tied it on as we rushed out the door.

 “We’ll be going by the Thames, Mrs. Granger. It’s the fastest route. I’ll drop you there. My Master has a barge waiting and I will be riding up to the castle to inform him of your arrival.”

 “Well done. Hermione.” Mother turned to me, and I curtsied. “I’ll ride ahead with this gentleman. Get the horse and ride along with your father. He’s readying her now, he can take her home.”

 Smartly she swung herself up to sit sidesaddle on the pillion behind the newcomer. “Which dock?”

 “New Temple Gardens, ma’am.”

 She nodded. “Tell Father, Hermione.”

 Mother clattered off, and Father puffed up with our nag. Snatching me up and placing me on the back, I shouted the dock to him and he spurred her into a canter, and we followed hot on Mother’s heels to the dock.

 Arriving by barge I took in the majesty of the docks at Westminster Palace. Intricate stone carvings adorned the arch leading into the hall. Being right on the water made for easy travel to and from, and I reflected on this as the barge stopped and we were swept away by another liveried man. He ushered us through the yard and into the gallery, where courtiers whispered as we passed. It became clear to me that this birth was important, and I kept my mouth shut and wits about me lest I be tricked into showing my ignorance. We were led to a small but well-furnished apartment, a tapestry on the wall depicting a silver wolf _passant guardant_. A grey-haired man paced the room, his cap in hand. I reflected on how the crest matched the man; he was much like a wolf pacing in a locked cage. With him was a dashing gentleman with long dark hair and silvered eyes and a boy, not much younger than I, with messy black hair and bottle-green eyes. All wore fine clothes, the grey man’s a little shabbier.

 “Lord Lupin, the Mistress Granger and daughter are here,” the man in livery announced. Mother curtsied low, and I followed her lead. Lord Lupin stopped and bowed his head slightly.

 “Mrs. Granger, my wife has just started her labor. She called for you immediately. There’s some blood and minor pains, but her ladies say she’s only starting.”

 Mother nodded, and we both handed our cloaks to the man who brought us. I clutched the basket with white knuckles, and Mother stopped the man before he could leave.

 “I’ll need soured white wine and hot water, sir. Bring it quickly.”

* * *

 

 We shut the door behind us and entered the stifling birthing chamber. The shutters were closed fast and bolted, and tapestries of forest scenes hung on the walls. The fire roared in the hearth and a lady in a gown of grey wool was mopping sweat from the Lady Lupin’s forehead as she sat in the great bed in her shift, her mousy hair loose but pulled away from her face. Another matronly lady with serious blue eyes and a brown silk dress was removing linen from a cedar chest and shaking it out, no doubt preparing for Her Ladyship to change after the birth. All was dark and oppressively warm in the May heat, meant to simulate the womb but suffocating to those of us outside it. I set aside the basket and took one of the ewers of water nearby to begin making the birthing tisane, while my mother approached the great bed and the two ladies.

 “Lady Lupin,” she greeted, dropping a quick curtsy. “I’m the Mrs. Granger. Your husband sent for me. This is my daughter Hermione; she will assist me today, Your Ladyship.”

 Lady Lupin let out a great moan, and the lady at her side nodded to my mother. “I am the mother of Lady Lupin, Mrs. Granger. I am Lady Tonks. Her other attending lady is Lady Exter. This is her first child.”

 Mother rolled up her sleeves and I heard a knock. I opened up the door and took the bottle of sour wine and the warm water from the servant lad outside. Shutting up the door from the blessedly cool chamber outside, I went inside and fetched a basin from the toilette table, and Mother held out her hands as I poured out sour wine over them. She dried them on a piece of linen as I carried away basin, wine, and water. The water was placed near the hearth to keep warm and I filled a goblet that Lady Exter passed to me with the sweet strong wine and added a grain of belladonna. Mother bent over the bed, having hiked up the sheet and the Lady’s skirt on her shift. After a moment of inspection, she rose back up.

 “The blood is normal, Your Ladyship. It is your womb stretching back so your child may go through and be born. This is your first, so the labor will unfortunately be long and hard.”

 Lady Tonks nodded. “May God have mercy and deliver us a healthy boy.”

 Lady Exter, Mother and I crossed ourselves. “Amen.”

 Lady Tonks mopped her daughter’s head again. “Dora, I need you to be strong for me. It’s only just begun and you need to try and rest until it’s time.”

 I thrust a poker in the fire until the tip glowed, then thrust the poker into the wine mixture where it frothed and bubbled. I then handed the warmed wine to Mother and she passed it to Lady Tonks, who guided her daughter to take a sip. The Lady Lupin grimaced.

 “Cor, it tastes awful, Mother.”

 “Lady Lupin, it is a draught to help you sleep and take away some of the pain,” Mother explained. “It’s not fine sugared wine, but it will help.”

 As the concoction took effect and she nodded off to sleep, we all settled in. It would be a long wait.

* * *

 

 Hours later Mother had birthing fluids up to her elbows, streaked with blood. Lady Tonks was at the birthing stool with her daughter, supporting her as she sweated and grunted with effort and pain. Lady Exter stood on the other side, her red hair frizzing out of the confines of her English hood. I passed linen soaked in warm water to my mother as she worked, and kept my eye on the fine old clock on the mantel keeping time. Mother wiped one hand free of gore, and placed it on Lady Lupin’s distended belly as I counted down.

 “Your Ladyship, you need to push in three...two...one!”

 Lady Lupin let out a great cry, and her mother grasped her hand. “You’re doing well, Dora, you’re doing fine.”

 I felt my head swimming, possibly from the heat and the fumes of the fire. I stumbled back, saw a flash of light on the wall, and felt a cool hand on my shoulder. It felt too large to be a lady but too soft and delicate to be a man, and when I turned my head to look I saw nothing but heard the whoosh of great wings.

 “Hermione!” My mother cried out to me and the moment was gone. “Hand me my knife, she’s tearing! I must cut her!”

 With fumbling hands I passed Mother the sharp little blade we kept for cutting the cords and situations like this. “I’m sorry Mother! Someone touched me but must have left.”

 Lady Tonks looked at me incredulously. “What are you blathering about girl? There is no one but us!”

 Mother shushed us all. “She’s losing blood, we need to get this child out now. Ladyship, one more great push!”

 Lady Lupin was sobbing, her face pale and soaked in sweat and her shift matted to her skin in blood, fluid, and more sweat. “I-I can’t, he will be stuck there and I can’t!”

 Lady Tonks grew alarmed, and I went and took Lady Lupin’s hand. “Your Ladyship, my mother is the best. We will save your son, but you must push. No matter what happens to you, he will live.” My tone rang with the tone of truth, and the room stilled for a breath.

 She let out another great cry, and a bloodied bundle slid partway out. Lady Tonks grasped her daughter’s forearm as my mother shouted. “Again!”

 Another cry, and the bundle slid completely out in a great rush of fluid and blood. A small wail echoed in the room, and Lady Tonks barked out a laugh. Lady Exter let out a vast sigh of relief, and murmured something about not envying the younger lady.

 “It’s a boy, Your Ladyship. A healthy boy.” Mother chafed his skin with first a wet then a dry linen towel, and wrapped him in a woolen cloth. The cord was tied and trimmed, finally severing him from the afterbirth and bringing him into the world proper. She handed him to me, and I passed him to his mother, who was worryingly pale.

 “My boy,” she breathed, holding him to her chest and smiling weakly. “His name is Edward Remus, for my father and my husband.”

 She passed him to her mother, and fainted.

 In the end, we barely managed to save her. Mother staunched the blood after frantic work, and I applied compresses of chamomile and true comfrey wrapped in linen strips to her tear as Mother spoon-fed Her Ladyship the prepared tisane I’d made hours earlier. Lady Tonks had held her grandson to her breast as we worked, and only when we managed to stop the bleeding and rouse Lady Lupin did the boy return to his mother and feed. We cleaned up quietly and sent the dirtied linens, ewers, basins, and goblets with the servants before bowing and leaving the three noblewomen to solitude and peace.

 “What the Devil happened in there?!”

 I shut the door as my mother squared her shoulders and glared at Lord Lupin and the other man, and they visibly shrank back at the fierce look she shot them. “I saved your wife’s life, Lord Lupin! Without me she would have bled to death and your son would be half an orphan!”

 “A son?” His Lordship straightened. “I have a son?”

 The dark-haired man clapped his back. “My congratulations are in order then, Remus! A son and heir for House Lupin!”

 Lord Lupin pushed past us and into the birthing chamber, and we left the man to his wife and mother-in-law. “My Lord Sunderland,” my mother said, sweeping her finest curtsy at the other man. My eyes widened at the name and I dropped into my own curtsy, head low with respect. He bowed his head at us and bade us rise. “I was not expecting you to be here.”

 “As if I’d miss the birth of my best friend’s son, Amy,” he replied jovially as he smiled at my mother. I gaped. My mother was on first-name basis with the Marquess of Sunderland?

 “Is this little Hermione? How you’ve grown,” he exclaimed, turning his gaze to me. “I haven’t seen you since you were a snippet of a girl in Hampstead!”

 I grasped for words. “How...How does His Grace know of my lady mother or I?”

 He smiled rakishly. “You didn’t tell her, Amy?”

 Mother huffed. “And how would I explain this to her, Sirius?”

 I looked to Mother, aghast. “Explain what, Mother?”

 Lord Sunderland - _Sirius_ \- barked out a laugh that was startlingly similar to Lady Tonk’s in the birthing chamber. “Dear little one, your mother is from a cadet branch of my family. They’re minor gentry compared to myself, but they’re still gentry and entitled to privileges.” He looked to my mother. “Why you married a physician I’ll never know. I could have called you to join us at court for a proper husband.”

 I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly dry as sawdust. “Gentry?”

* * *

 

 We sat down later in Lord Sunderland’s rooms, nicer than Lord Lupin’s by a wide margin. The room was decorated in sumptuous forest greens and silver-grey, with dark wood furnishings. Mother sniffed. “Showy as ever, Sirius.”

 “Aren’t I always?” He gestured us to sit. I plopped into a softly-upholstered stool, but Mother stubbornly stayed standing.

 “What is this about, Sirius,” she gritted out.

 “I know Hermione was distracted by something in the chamber while attending my cousin,” he said languidly, gesturing to the messy-haired boy to pour everyone wine. “What did my little cousin see, I wonder?”

 “Light,” I blurted out, before I could stop myself. Heads snapped to me; hazel, grey, and green gazes all showing different emotions. My mother pursed her lips, clearly telling me to keep my mouth shut. Lord Sunderland’s eyes flashed, and I found it tumbling out of my mouth in a torrent I could not hope to stop.

 “I saw light, Your Grace. Light and then I felt a hand touch my shoulder. It felt cool and was fine like a noble’s. When I turned to see whomever it was had disappeared, and I heard wings. I didn’t really see anything, Your Grace, please.” I bowed my head. Mother frowned while Lord Sunderland fixed me with a calculating glance.

 “Did anything else happen, Hermione.” he queried gently.

 Again I spat it out without thinking. “I felt compelled to comfort Her Ladyship during transition. She was weak and the baby could have been in danger.” I hung my head, ashamed at being disobedient to my mother’s wishes. “I told her we would save her son.”

 “And so you did,” Lord- Sirius said brusquely, clapping his hands together and standing up. “Harry, bring my _darling cousin_ here for a moment, will you?”

The boy Harry nodded. “Yes, godfather. I don’t need to bring the git, do I?”

 Sirius laughed. “No, we won’t need him, just his wife. Try not to let anyone suspect anything.”

 Harry grinned and nodded at his godfather and left the chamber. Sirius turned back to us.

 “Has this happened before, dear girl?”

 “No sir,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. “I was just being foolish, please I beg of you.”

 “Sirius she’s just a girl. She’ll be eaten alive here at court.” Mother crossed her arms over her bloodied apron, which she had still not had a chance to take off. “You can’t send her to that woman.”

 “Can and will, Amy. She’s family like you, and Hermione could be more useful here than as a midwife’s apprentice.”

 “I said no, Sirius! She’s a girl, she should be home! This court is a den of snakes, I won't allow it.”

 “Not much a girl any longer,” Sirius said, raking me with a glance that made me flush red in embarrassment. “She’s what, twelve? Your mother was so old when she married your father and my cousin once removed.”

 Mother went pale. “Sirius, no!”

 He turned to me. “Hermione, we’re at an impasse. It’s up to you and my dear cousin what happens next.”

 A knock sounded, and Harry poked his head into the chamber. “She’s here, Sirius.”

 “Let her in, and make sure our men are guarding the door.”

 Harry nodded and moved aside. A grand lady swept into the room, her fine pale blue silk gown richly embroidered with grey threads. Her fashionable French hood sparkled with silver beads and showed a daring peek of white-blonde hair. Sirius stood to greet her. “Narcissa, my dear cousin. How are you this fine day?”

 She sniffed, her cold blue eyes sweeping the room disdainfully. Harry finally came back into the chamber and closed the door again. “What do you want from me, Sirius?”

 He gestured to my mother and I. “Do you remember our cousins from Hampstead? This is Amy Granger and her daughter Hermione. Ladies, this is the Lady Narcissa Malfoy, Duchess of Berkshire.”

 Narcissa watched as we swept into curtsies. She inclined her head to us and we rose. “Charmed. What does this have to do with me?”

 “Hermione has just assisted her mother in the birth of the newest Lupin, cousin. She saw something extraordinary.” He related my tale, and Lady Berkshire’s gaze grew sharper and more shrewd with each passing second. As her cousin finished the tale, she turned to me. “I assume she will need protection from the other families, then.”

 He nodded. Mother finally had enough.

 “I won’t let her.” She whirled on her cousins. “Her father and I swore she would grow up to a normal life, and marry and maybe carry on my work.”

 “A common life,” Lady Berkshire shot back. “A common life for someone with her talent and her lineage? Don’t be absurd.”

 She shifted her gaze back to me. “Girl, can you read and write?”

 “Yes, Your Grace.”

 “Can you dance, sing, and sew?”

 “Well enough, Your Grace.”

 “Can you speak any languages?”

 “I can read, write, and speak English, Latin, Spanish, and French, Your Grace.” Where was all this going?

 Her Grace nodded. “She deserves better than the life you and Richard want for her Amy. With her skills and her gift, she could rise to amazing heights.”

 Mother finally sat, her eyes filmed with tears. “Please don’t, Cissa. Don’t pull her into this life.”

 “She needs protected. If she has the Sight, she’ll never be safe unless it’s with us,” His Grace laid a gentle hand on my mother’s shoulder, and knelt to look at her. “We’re powerful enough, we can watch her. Help her.”

 “What would Richard say,” Mother choked, her hands twisting in her lap. Lady Berkshire sniffed delicately.

 “Richard would want her to come to a rich relative’s house to find a husband anyway. This way she can aspire to a very fortunate marriage. She might even jump as high as marrying my son.”

 As the implications of this statement fell on my suddenly-dumb ears, my mind ran through an old rhyme the maid would sing as she washed my stockings and linen as a girl.

 

_One for sorrow,_

_Two for joy,_

_Three for a girl,_

_Four for a boy,_

_Five for silver,_

_Six for gold,_

_Seven for a secret,_

_Never to be told._

_Eight for a wish,_

_Nine for a kiss,_

_Ten for a bird,_

_You must not miss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was common in the 16th century that wives or elder daughters had some knowledge of their husband’s work and in the case of their husband or father dying would often take over their place in the guild. Physicians, however, were one of the few groups where this wasn’t common as many had to then graduate from the College of Physicians after apprenticeship (post 1518) or face rigorous examination by four doctors of physic that is then approved and admitted by the Bishop of London or the Dean of St. Paul’s. This did not apply to Oxford and Cambridge medical graduates. Women in medicine were strictly relegated to the role of midwife, its own specialized field that men weren’t allowed into and covered everything from the obvious birth and delivery to family planning and reproductive health. Apprenticeship as a midwife was usually female family member to female family member, and Hermione is technically apprenticed under her mother.
> 
> Also, to explain the relationship between the characters: Sirius is first cousins with Narcissa and Andromeda. Nymphadora is therefore Sirius’ first cousin once removed. Sirius’ mentioned “first cousin once removed” that married Amy’s mother makes Amy his second cousin. That makes Hermione a second cousin twice removed. Draco and Hermione are therefore third cousins. At least, this is as far as I understand it. However, this kind of technicality was often glossed over by nobility of the time, instead eschewed for the simpler “cousin” moniker. Even today sometimes you will hear nobility refer to each other as cousins even if they don’t actually share blood.
> 
> Long chapter notes won’t be the norm, just really needed to clarify some points.


	2. Bonny Sweet Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ASTOUNDED at the level of attention this story got in only the first chapter! Many thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos, as well as those who bookmarked. If you check the description, I’ve set this fic to be updated on Saturdays. It probably won’t be weekly on Saturdays, but you can expect any updates to be on a Saturday and you can check back accordingly.

  _Early Spring, 1522: Wiltshire_

 “My son is returning from France along with Boleyn’s daughter. They’ve been recalled.”

 I looked up from the book I was reading aloud to Narcissa. It had been nearly a year since I had been taken in by the Black family. Sirius sent me immediately to Wiltshire with Narcissa to learn all I would need to know to survive at court. She was a harsh teacher, but highly effective. I could read Greek now, and I had the manners of a courtier to go with my already extensive education I had received at home. It had been a long time since I was in London.

 Narcissa folded the letter in her hand. “We have been called to court as well. Bessie Blount is leaving, as is another chit of a girl in Queen Catherine’s household. You and the Boleyn girl are to take their place.”

 “Maid in waiting?” I snapped my book shut. “It’s a sore sight better than a midwife’s apprentice.”

 Long gone was the girl who aspired no further than to follow her mother’s footsteps. The Duke of Berkshire’s household was a court in miniature, and Cousin Narcissa had figuratively and sometimes literally beaten me into the shape of a courtier. I had ambition to learn, and it served me very well under her tutelage. Ambition was one thing Malfoys understood intimately.

 “Indeed. I will be most happy to see my son. We sent him off to France not long before you stepped into our lives. He had to pay his dues as a courtier someplace, and the Malfoys had a family seat in France many years ago.” She put the letter away in her writing desk and waved me over.

 I placed the book down on the stool I was sitting upon and approached. Narcissa clasped my hands. “Hermione, you’ve become much like a daughter to me. I see much of myself in you.”

 She held my chin in one hand. “I want you to befriend the Boleyn girl. She’s as educated and talented as you, and bound to be enchanting as well. She’s a reputation for being intelligent, so perhaps ingratiate yourself that way.”

 Narcissa let me go and turned back to her desk, taking her quill in hand. “Do not fail me, Hermione. Now fetch your lute, the music master is due in five minutes and you must practice.”

* * *

 Lord Berkshire and his son were delayed by spring storms, so it was not until nearly March that we rode out from Wiltshire to London. I rode my bay gelding slightly behind Narcissa’s dappled grey mare, our baggage train trailing behind us. We stopped by an inn in Reading for the night, sleeping on what had to be the only feather beds in the whole town before rising very early and continuing on to London.

 As we rode, I reflected on how very different I was from the girl who left a year ago. I had not had another episode since then. Narcissa had been disappointed, but she assumed it was because I was out in the country and away from court. It did not matter; her training had made it so if I did suffer a vision from my gift, it would not show and no one would be the wiser. As a gift for being called to court, Narcissa had made me a few gowns cut down from some of her older gowns in a more fashionable cut and had a brand new gown made for me. Being a ward of the Duke of Berkshire meant I was entitled to wear silk, and I reveled in the luxury of my new green gown with a heavily-embroidered French hood. It was the finest thing I had ever worn.

 “We’re nearly there,” Narcissa said as we passed through the streets to Westminster. I sat straighter in the saddle and self-consciously swept my fingers to be sure that my chestnut curls stayed within my coif and hood. The liveried men that preceded us raised the blue banners with the Malfoy crest high, shouting to the commoners to make way for the Duchess of Berkshire. We all clattered into the yard of Westminster Palace and both Narcissa and I were handed down from the saddles gracefully. We swept off our riding cloaks and passed them to the porters to take to the Duke’s rooms with our baggage. Until I received accommodations of my own as a maid, I would stay with Narcissa. Not being much tired or dirtied by our ride into London, we went immediately to the Queen’s chambers and I felt nervous flutters in my stomach at the knowledge I would be meeting the queen.

* * *

 Narcissa swept her curtsy to Catherine of Aragon and I followed, matching her exactly. She was resplendent in scarlet and cloth-of-gold, her heavy English hood hiding her fading hair and jewels dripping from her neck and fingers. Catherine waved a beringed hand before I had finished the required three seconds before rising, and my indignance made me pop straight back up like a cork. I had practiced for weeks with Narcissa to perfect that curtsy, with her knocking my body with a switch to correct my posture and footing!

 The queen seemed not to notice or care about my irritation. “So this is the young Mistress Granger, your ward. Tell me about yourself child.”

 I clasped my hands demurely before me, head high. “I have been in the country at the Wiltshire estate, Your Majesty. When I was taken in by Lady Berkshire I was already educated, but she took time to refine my etiquette and give me more courtly manners. She also refined my education to include more music and courtly dance.”

 The queen arched her brow. “If that is so, then how would you rate your singing?”

 “I sing well enough, Your Majesty.”

 Her Majesty waved her hand. “Then sing for us, girl.”

 Lady Berkshire handed me a lute, and led me to a stool. The look in her eyes was clear: _do as the queen says and do not embarrass us._

 I plucked the strings of the lute, which summarily was tuned slightly until perfect. I plucked the strings in a gentle, somber tune, before opening my mouth and singing plaintively.

  _Robin is to the greenwood gone_

_Leaving me here to sigh all alone._

_That I would reserve for no other boy_

_For bonny sweet Robin is all of my joy..._

 Footsteps echoed in the hall, and male voices chattered. The women began to flutter about, adjusting the drape of skirts and assuming beguiling attitudes. I continued to play, forcing down the panic in my chest. I knew what those footsteps meant, and while it was one thing to sing for the ladies of the court and the Queen, I did not want to be caught singing before the King and his men! Narcissa grasped my shoulder, her grip firm; I must continue to play.

  _They bore him carefully home to me here_

_And in his grave, great many a tear…_

 The steps grew closer, the voices louder. I could not stop; I could only play and sing as the doors behind me flew open and I heard all and sundry quiet themselves and listen.

  _Fell o’er and also upon my boy_

_For bonny sweet Robin was all of my joy…_

 The queen nodded to me. “Well sung, Mistress Granger.”

 My cheeks burned as I curtsied first to the queen, and then to the king. I heard the queen stand and curtsy to her husband. “Merry meet, husband.”

 Narcissa jerked me away from the courtiers crushing into the room, over near the side. I saw Mary Carey run up and crush a dark-haired younger woman with glittering dark eyes and fine clothes to her breast, and assumed it was her sister the mysterious Anne. Eyes appraising but not directly watching, I gave the girl a good look. Older than me by four years, she had milk-white skin and utterly French manners, and my breath caught as she sharply turned her head in an elegant manner to greet the golden-haired George Boleyn, her brother. Narcissa tilted her head before leading me away with a tut.

 “Not near as fair as her sister, but still attractive in dress and manners. She’ll marry well enough. Come, Hermione. We must find Draco.”

 We wove through the courtiers, and I found myself assuming a bored attitude. The fine clothes and beautiful features were beginning to run together, and I quickly determined that there was little chance that young Master Malfoy would be any different from the rest of the rabble.

 A couple parted ways, revealing a gap in the crush. Only one person stood there, and I felt my heart flutter in my chest as I sharply inhaled and my eyes widened.

 Draco Malfoy towered over the other men, almost as tall as the King. Fine strands of hair like spun white-gold fell upon his brow, and silver-grey eyes lit up under impossibly long and thick burnished-gold lashes at the sight of his mother. His milk-white skin suited his sharp and aristocratic features; indeed, he looked like a being of moonlight more than a man. His fine calves were encased in silken white hose with bronze-colored garters, and his jerkin was a rich bronze velvet over deep blue wool. A jaunty blue cap had a white feather in it, and his shoes were fine brown leather. We made our way over and he bowed elegantly in the French manner to his lady mother.

 “Ah, _ma mère. Je suis aveuglé par la beauté_!”

 Narcissa laughed, an elegant arpeggio. “Oh very pretty, my son! But utterly useless, as I am immune to your charms.”

 He shrugged, a carefree yet refined gesture. “It does not hurt to try, Mother. It is all the French do, as you know. Flirting is rampant, I tell you. English born and bred though I may be, but in my heart I fear I may have become all French!”

 She waved her hand dismissively, though she wore a smirk. He smirked back before finally noticing my presence. “...Who is this?”

 Narcissa waved her hand to me, and I curtsied the elegant curtsy I had hoped to use to impress the queen. My head was bowed the required three seconds, and then I felt a calloused hand raise my face gently to look up. Intense silvered eyes met mine, and my breath caught in my chest. “Hermione Granger, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

 He smirked, and then bowed lowly over my hand, his full lips gently brushing my fingers. I felt my face heat, and a tremor ran through me as he raised his face to look me in the eye, his arresting eyes shining and those sensual lips parted into a perfectly white smile.

 “ _Enchanté, mademoiselle._ You would be my cousin from Hampstead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting to Draco and a little Dramione action! I know this chapter is VERY short compared to the monster that was Chapter 1 but it felt right to end it with their meeting. The Anne plotline is coming up soon, I promise!
> 
> Bonny Sweet Robin is a folk song first written in the 1500s. The tune still exists, but the words are lost. The only part still known is alluded to in Shakespeare's Hamlet when Ophelia plaintively sings "Bonny sweet Robin was all of my joy" in her madness, suggesting it was already quite popular by Elizabeth's reign.


	3. Betrothal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sososo many thanks for the kudos and comments! I’m so humbled by the response for this fic. Sorry for the long wait, it’s been impossible to keep up with writing since my kid has started potty training. As a peace offering I'm going to release this a bit earlier than usual. Next chapter is already in the research stages so it will be up within the next two weeks. I’m tracking posts and such related to this fic under #dnhdramione on Tumblr, and I’m posting updates and writing-related stuff under that tag! I’m doing the same for Strings under #stringsdramione too. Come say hi, my name is the same there as it is here!

  _Spring, 1522: Westminster Palace_

  I politely left Master Malfoy with his mother and joined the crush in the outer presence chamber of the queen’s rooms. It had been a year since I had last been at court, and I pointedly ignored the few curious looks I got from various courtiers. I was the Malfoy ward; Malfoys do not care for the thoughts and curiosity of others. I was a woman on a mission, and as I bobbed and weaved through the crowd I finally spotted my quarry. His mop of flyaway black hair was level with a similarly dark head of waves.

  “Hermione!” Harry smiled and bowed as I came up to him. I flashed him a genuine grin and curtsied first to cousin Sirius, then to Harry. “It’s been ages, how have you been?”

  “Well, Your Excellency,” I teased. It had been a happy day in Narcissa’s chambers when we had gotten the news that Harry had inherited his father’s title of Viscount of Surrey. He rubbed the back of his close-shorn hair bashfully.

  “You really don’t have to call me that,” he mumbled, his cheeks growing red and green eyes flashing in embarrassment. Sirius only laughed at his godson and clapped him on the back.

  “Now Harry, it’s not every day one officially becomes a member of the peerage.”

  “Uncle, please.” Harry smiled and gently nudged his godfather in the shoulder. “I’m still just Harry, the only thing special about me is I have a title.”

  “And young maidens fighting for the chance to become the Lady Surrey,” I teased. His face grew more ruddy, and I mock-gasped.

  “There is!” I grasped his hand. “You MUST tell me, I’ve been in the country for a year and I’m wasting away for want of news!”

  “There’s one girl I may have an interest in,” he grumbled. I followed his gaze to a red-haired girl with warm brown eyes, surrounded by a gaggle of young masters from various houses.

  “You can’t possibly mean Ginevra Weasley,” I laughed. His face suddenly went pale, and I gave a genuine gasp of horror.

  “You’re serious? Harry, the Blacks and Malfoys hate the Weasleys!”

  “Yes, but I’m a Potter not a Black,” he shot back in a whisper. “I can do as I please, as can you Hermione. You aren’t a Malfoy either!”

  “I’m as good as!” I pulled him away from Sirius, who had gotten distracted by another member of the King’s Council. “What benefit could she possibly bring you Harry?”

  He looked around, and leaned closer. “Rumour has it her father is in line to become Viscount of Dartmouth.”

  I nodded. “If true then at least you’re not marrying down. Everyone knows that a baron’s daughter doesn’t mean much.”

  “I like her, Hermione,” he said in exasperation. “As matches go anything has to be better than an arranged marriage to someone like Jane Parker or Mary Carey. Their heads are emptier than a flower pot.”

  I laughed at the crude joke. “It helps she’s beautiful. And with her supposed connections it doesn’t matter how intelligent she is, Harry.”

  I saw his face settle into indifference as his gaze went beyond me. “Master Malfoy.”

  I turned in alarm, then curtsied. “Master Malfoy! You surprised us.”

  Draco’s lips curled into a smirk and he bowed politely. “Your Excellency, congratulations on your inheritance. Is our ward troubling you?”

  Harry smiled an empty courtier’s smile back. “Not at all, I was just telling Hermione about what she’s missed at court these past months.”

  Draco nodded. “Quite a fascinating subject, to be sure. However, I must spirit my cousin away. My father and mother wish to speak to her.”

* * *

  I had only met Lord Berkshire a few times, when he would return to Wiltshire to see his wife and attend to his lands. I curtsied deeply to him when we approached, and he gazed down with imperious silver eyes as he beckoned me to stand. “Hermione, I trust all is well?”

  “Yes my Lord, I’m thankful to finally join you at court.” He smirked approvingly.

  “I trust my wife has already told you what you’re expected to do?”

  I nodded, and he inclined his head at me before turning to his son. “Draco, I hear you already have an acquaintance with the Boleyn girl? You know what you need to do.”

  Draco bowed to his father, then led me away. He tucked my hand into his arm and we wandered the halls, looking for all the world like kin on a sedate stroll. Laughter echoed through the galleries, the playing of a lute somewhere in the background. The steady _thwack_ of arrows at the archery butts and shouts from the tennis courts could be heard in the gardens and courtyards, and I turned my head to my chaperone.

  “So Master Malfoy, you’re to introduce me?”

  He smiled rakishly. “ _Bien sur_ , but of course! If we can find the ruddy girl,” he grumbled in an afterthought. I grinned.

  “Are you to tell me that you aren’t a very good seeker? Well I suppose one can’t be perfect,” I teased. He glared, but did not let go of my hand. My heart was thudding in my breast, excited I could get some kind of genuine reaction from him. We wandered towards the gardens, peeking into alcoves and around secret benches. I heard an elegant laugh and the ripple of French accented English, and I tugged Draco towards it.

  “My sweet sister, my milk and honey sister,” the voice said as we grew closer. “Between you and me, being difficult and French, what man could withstand us?”

  “Hail, Boleyns,” exclaimed Draco, a sunny smile on his face and laughter in his grey eyes. “You disappeared on us all. Have you been hiding here all this time?”

  Two golden heads and a dark one turned to us with identical smiles, dark eyes glittering like the water of the fountain behind them. Anne nodded to us, imperious as any queen. “Master Malfoy, I thought it was you! It’s lovely that we could come over the Channel together, I feared I would have naught but my family for company!”

  He swept a courtly bow and I curtsied elegantly. “How could I leave such an engaging _mademoiselle_ to fend for herself? Of course I would return with my dear friend to the land of our mutual birth.” His grey eyes shone with mirth.

  “Very pretty, Master Malfoy,” Lady Carey tittered, voluptuous and womanly in her powder blue dress. “My sister doesn’t lack for friends and I’m sure she would have made more within a week of arrival!”

  “I’m sure it’s a joy to welcome home a sister such as Anne, Lady Carey,” I responded with a gentle smile. George laughed.

  “I take it you’re the Mistress Granger, ward of the Malfoys,” he said jovially, golden curls catching the sunlight. “A pleasure to meet you!”

  I laughed. “And the pleasure is mine, sir. So tell me, how goes the court? I’ve been gone a year and want greatly for news.”

  Anne grinned conspiratorially. “Yes George, tell us! We all know I’m only here for my betrothal, but what other gossip have you for us?”

* * *

  That afternoon saw us become fast friends with the three Boleyns, and the first week Anne flirted and ingratiated herself with the courtiers as she dutifully served Queen Mary in her court. I helped Narcissa in her duties to Queen Catherine and spent my free time reading and talking with Anne.

  “I’m the baby at seventeen to Mary’s nineteen and George’s twenty-one,” she said to me as we wandered the gardens one morning, selecting the flowers for Queen Mary’s rooms. She tied a thin blue and gold ribbon to a marigold for the gardeners to find and cut, and I looked at her quizzically.

  “So close in age? Surely you must know each other well?” I plucked an errant daisy that was growing out of the path in front of us, and tucked it in my book I had carried out with me that day. Anne laughed, a courtier’s elegant arpeggio, and tied another ribbon to a rose.

  “One would think, but no. I was at the French court with Mary while George was plying his trade here in England. She left France two years ago for her betrothal and marriage to Lord Carey. We’re closest of kin but practically strangers.”

  I gaped. “How awful.”

  She smiled at me. “It’s not so bad. Now we’re reunited, and we’re the three Boleyns, the delightful Boleyns. And I have you and Master Malfoy as friends.”

  I smiled back. “And glad I am for it. How goes the betrothal?”

  She pressed the hand holding the Queen’s ribbons to her forehead and dramatically threw her head back. “Exhausting! I swear that the negotiations and discussion about the dowry will go on forever. All to become an Irish countess, it’s almost not worth it!”

  “Only almost,” I said with a wink, and we dissolved into giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astute readers will notice that the Malfoys are not the Dukes of Wiltshire and that the titles of Baron of Exter/Viscount of Dartmouth for Arthur and Marquess of Sunderland/Viscount of Surrey for Sirius and Harry are completely fabricated for the time period. This is because I didn’t want to change the historical record and wanted to be sure to do as little change as possible. I’m unaware if there were any Viscounts or Barons of those particular towns in the Tudor period and I know for a fact that Thomas Boleyn was Earl of Wiltshire, which would have caused issues later in the story for the Malfoys. However Thomas Boleyn’s family seat was in Hever, so it’s entirely possible for the Malfoys to have their family seat in Wiltshire despite not being the nobility in charge of the area.


	4. The Château Vert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tracking posts and such related to this fic under #dnhdramione on Tumblr, and I’m posting updates and writing-related stuff under that tag! I’m doing the same for Strings under #stringsdramione too. Come say hi, my name is the same there as it is here!
> 
> This ended up taking WAY too long to write, and it’s pretty much inexcusable. I did have computer issues in August, but even that isn’t enough to make up for the lack of updates, I apologize for that. As restitution I am presenting an extra long chapter that I spent the last two weeks working on the research and timeline for, and I can confidently say that I now have a solid timeline for the story that will help me write chapters faster than every three weeks or so. Probably more like every two to two and a half weeks now.

   _Spring, 1522: Westminster Palace_

  “Cardinal Wosley is holding a pageant at York Place,” the Queen stated a few days before Shrovetide, having received a missive from a footman. Narcissa’s blue eyes glanced up, fingers pausing in their task of stitching shirts for the poor. I placed my book in my lap and Anne stopped laughing at Jane Parker’s bungled stitches with a calculating gleam in her eyes. Mary Carey stopped reading from the Bible and her face blushed prettily. Queen Catherine bade Lady Carey to read and her voice trembled with excitement: a great masque called The Château Vert, with eight ladies to dance with the eight knights who would save them from the castle. “Oh, your Majesty…”

   “Hm? What is it, Mary?”

  “I only wondered…” she wrung her hands, the very picture of humility and bashful womanhood. It was masterfully done. “I wondered if I would be allowed to go, to enjoy the feasting and revels?”

  “I think you wondered _a bit_ more than that,” Her Majesty said, a glint in her eye and an indulgent smile on her face. I rolled my eyes and Anne stifled a snort at my irreverence.

  “Oh, could I be one of the dancers, your Majesty,” she begged, and Anne and Jane had to shove their fists in their mouths to stifle the laughter bubbling up at Mary’s pitiful playacting. We all knew she was the most determined flirt that ever walked this earth, even beyond Anne who at least was not so empty-headed as to lose the plot completely.

  “Yes, you may be.” Catherine waved a beringed hand. “How many ladies are asked of me?”

  “Eight, your Majesty,” Mary simpered. I looked over at Anne, no longer laughing and instead sitting serenely with hands resting lightly over her sewing and looking for all the world like she was not listening and hoping she would be chosen too.

  It worked. “Mistress Anne Boleyn, the Queen Mary of France, Lady Devonshire, Mistress Jane Parker, Lady Berkshire, Mistress Hermione Granger, Lady Exter, and you Mary.” The queen nodded decisively and returned to her sewing, while Narcissa and I shared a look. It was an odd group: the King’s lady aunt, his sister Queen Mary, the heiress Jane Parker, the Boleyn girls, Molly Weasley the Baroness of Exter and an enemy of the Blacks and Malfoys, and us two. 

  “Will we wear green,” Anne asked smoothly, courtier’s smile bright. Catherine smiled back, not looking up from her work.

  “I would think so,” she said. “Mary, please write a note back to Cardinal Wosley and tell him we would be delighted to attend and to send the master of revels for costuming and choreography.”

* * *

The arrival of the master of revels began a fierce competition of smiles and backhanded compliments as to who would play each role, ending in the Queen’s intervention and assigning of roles: Queen Mary got the plum role of Beauty, Katherine of York got Honour, Jane Parker was to play Constancy (“she _does_ cling on so,” whispered Anne with a giggle), Mary Carey was given Kindness, I was given Mercy, Narcissa was Bounty, Lady Exter received Pity, and Anne was to play Perseverance. “Shows her thoughts on _you_ ,” I teased her as we were fitted for our sumptuous apple green silk gowns. Anne laughed out loud at that.

  We were to be attacked by foul women seeking to lock us away, in reality to be choristers from the royal chapel, before being rescued by the King and his chosen friends as Ardent Desire and his knights Amorous, Nobleness, Youth, Attendance, Loyalty, Pleasure, Gentleness and Liberty. Narcissa informed me that the king would be disguised and I should take care to overlook the transparent ruse of a gold mask on the face of a golden head that towered over everyone in the room.

* * *

  It was fantastic fun in the end, more of a play-fight than a pageant. Sirius flung rose petals at me and I accidentally drenched a laughing George Boleyn and Draco with rosewater. The choristers were little boys who got overexcited and attacked the knights only to be swung off their feet and deposited, giggling, onto the ground. My olive branch headdress was lopsided, some of my chestnut curls escaping at my temples and Mary Carey had sugared fruit tumbling from the folds of her gown as she spun around in the dance with her laughing sister Anne.

  Anne slipped away and Mary spun wildly, bumping into a towering figure in cloth-of-gold and a gold domino. Like wolves scenting blood in the brush George, Anne, Draco, and I whipped our heads towards Mary, clever eyes observing her blushing speech to Ardent Desire. Draco and I glanced to each other, I about to reach and pull the silly woman away before she embarrassed herself, and he raised a finger to his lips. I stopped and pretended to rejoin the dance, always knowing that something momentous was happening and praying it would not end badly. Anne and George stayed close to their sister, walking the steps in the dance but always watching.

  The musicians finished the dance and waited, poised for the king’s command. “Unmask!”

  He tore the gold mask from his face, and Mary gave a wonderful little gasp and stumbled back.

  “Good lord, she’s fainting,” Anne exclaimed. It was beautifully done; Mary fell into the king’s arms and George quick as lightning ripped the mask from her face and her headdress tumbled to the floor, sending her perfumed hair over his arm like a golden waterfall. 

  Draco and I watched the king whispering something to her, and Lady Carey responding in a gentle murmur. As the king kissed her hands and called for the feast to start, my gaze slid to Anne. She had a calculating look in her eyes as she took her mask off, and as she looked from her sister over to me she gave me a secret smile.

* * *

  I was walking down one of the corridors the morning after the pageant, reading from a book of meditations, when I saw Howard livery and stopped. Hiding in an alcove I could hear voices, and it seemed luck was on my side because as I crept quietly closer I noticed both guards were dozing, probably still nursing sore heads from the feast the night before. No one else saw as I stopped mere feet from the door and could hear everything in the chamber behind.

  “Is she fertile?”

  “Courses are regular and she’s a healthy girl,” said a female voice.

  A male voice responded. “If he has her and she conceives his bastard, we have everything to play for.”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth in shock as I heard Anne’s rippling laugh. “She will have to join me in the maid’s quarters, Uncle. He has to know it’s not Carey’s.”

As I listened more my eyes grew wider and wider, hearing the plot unfold. The king had shown his hand and demonstrated interest in Mary. They were going to put her in his bed and make a play at the crown!

  “I can help her.”

  “You’re a bit young to be a tutor, Anne. Especially in matters like these.”

  “I was raised in the most fashionable court in Europe, I have eyes. I saw what went on in France and I can teach her how to behave.”

  A hand tugged my shoulder, and I stifled a scream as I was whipped around to face Draco, who again shushed me and pulled me back the way I had come. We turned through the corridors and cut across the hall, finally making it to the Malfoy rooms. The doors were shut, and Lucius was at his desk.

  “News?”

  “Yes Father.” Draco bowed and I curtsied, and Lord Berkshire nodded for us to continue.

  “Uncle, the Howards are concocting a plot.” I was blunt and to the point, too breathless with running halfway across the castle. Narcissa, who had been sitting by the fire, stood.

  “What plot?”

  “They’re making a move on the king. They want to put Mary in his bed,” Draco stated. I nodded in confirmation.

  Lucius swore, and slammed his fist into the table, making his quill bounce from the holder and nearly upsetting the inkwell. Narcissa moved to him and rubbed his arm soothingly.

  “This hasn’t gone past the Howard rooms?”

  “No sir,” I said quickly. “I’ve only just overheard it, no one but Draco and the liverymen were near.”

  He nodded. “Good. Hermione, you have managed to become friends with Anne. You need to keep an eye on her and Mary, learn all you can. Draco, stay on George and keep me aware of things.”

  He picked his quill back up and pinned us with his steel grey gaze. “We have an advantage over the other families, we can inform Black later but we must be first to ingratiate ourselves with the Howards. If Mary becomes queen or mother of the king then, God willing, we Malfoys will rise along with her.”

* * *

  Mary stood in her husband’s rooms while the maids bustled about, throwing clothing into chests and gathering her things for the move to Anne’s room. Anne and I were eating sweet grapes and honeyed apple slices. Carey had just left, called to hunt with the king and having stopped by long enough to bid his wife goodbye and accept his cuckold’s horns. As she sat on a settee, eyes wide and watering, Anne scoffed and threw a grape at her.

  “Oh stop, Mary. You should be glad he’s taking it so well.”

  Her lip wobbled. “I just thought…”

  “Then don’t think,” I snapped, waving off a maid who came with a hideous gown in a garish chartreuse. “You’re going to stay with Anne and I. You’re not the queen’s favorite but who even cares about that when the king is the only thing that matters?”

  I had had my things moved to be with Anne in the maid’s quarters a few days ago, after Narcissa artfully bent the ear of the queen and finally got me out of hers and Lucius’ rooms. Anne laughed at my callous words, popping a sweet bite of apple into her beautiful mouth.

  “Too right, Hermione. The king is the only thing that matters, sister. Up and onwards,” she said, standing and brushing her gown before taking her sister’s hand and leading everyone out, the room still a chaotic mess of clothes and jewels.

* * *

  Things settled back into a routine. Sleeping in the dormitory with Anne, Mary, and a reluctant Jane Parker turned out to be great fun, but I noticed as Mary’s things were moved across the palace and days passed with only politeness from her husband and quiet yet perturbed resignation from the queen that Mary’s mood sank lower and lower. It was only as I was at the tennis court with Anne that I learned why.

  “She thinks she can’t do this,” Anne whispered as we all clapped politely at a genius strike from Henry Percy. I cocked my head towards her.

  “Do what?”

  “Seduce the king. She feels bad about it.”

  I scoffed softly. “As if she has a choice. She might as well make her peace with it and use it to her advantage.” I did not have to explain how I knew about the Howard’s plan for Mary; anyone with eyes had seen her new hunter from the king’s personal stables and noticed her new status as a maid. Anne nodded imperceptibly, the crowd clapping again as a player scored.

  “She must keep him coming forward, always forward,” she said, shifting her hands and smiling brilliantly as she spoke through her teeth. “Keep him coming forward but never coming forward herself. He’s a hunter, he needs the chase. If he gives her the chance to come forward or run, she needs to run away.”

  I nodded back, courtier’s smile flashing in the sun. My gaze caught the king through the open door of the court, Mary by his side blushing like a virgin as he gently kissed her hand and let her go off heaven knows where. “But?”

  Anne’s sharp eyes had also caught what I had seen, and she cocked her head. “But the stupid girl needs to remember not to run too fast--he has to catch her.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I am aware that recent record is that Anne was born in 1501 but I have decided to make it the less accurate date of 1505 to make Anne closer in age to Hermione and Draco. I pushed back her arrival to England for similar reasons, as her first official appearance at court is the Château Vert pageant and I wanted Hermione to be barely of age to be at court when Anne arrives and performs in the pageant.
> 
> Henry VIII is historically documented as being a “Renaissance Man” and being fond of composing music (see The King’s Ballad), having performances in which he plays the lead male role, and many other intellectual and artistic pursuits. Historical record has him noted as playing the lead role of Ardent Desire in the Château Vert pageant at York Place.
> 
> So many thanks for the kudos and bookmarks! I am so humbled and can only hope I haven't angered anyone with my slow update schedule. I have a [face cast of Draco and Hermione's appearance](https://temperamentalterpsichorean.tumblr.com/post/188332095811/do-no-harm-face-cast) for this fic on my tumblr and I've updated all my fics with snazzy new covers/moodboards!


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